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The letter ✉️
#WritcoStoryPrompt21
'My dear child,
I know you had your doubts about your birth. I couldn't tell you while I was alive so I left you this letter. Your real parents live in...'
I stared at the unfinished letter in shock. How was I supposed to find my true identity?
How else, except through being alone for a while, could I ever discover who I really was?
Although as an adopted person, once you find out about that 'other' side of yourself, it's almost like you've found out who you really are.
But how else could I ever know who I really am and where I was going if I had no idea about anything or anyone.
Who Am I? what's happened to my parents, what had they been through, the courage shown, the costs paid, to be where I am today?
But in spite of all my self-doubts, I had a very strong sense of who I was.
To others I might have been a mystery, personal in my journey but social in all I seek; you wouldn't believe the depth of longing in my heart. And in that moment, I felt a strange feeling came over me.
I couldn’t help wondering what it was that made me not good enough for them. It was a familiar feeling. I’d had it off and on my entire life, and now it made perfect sense.
I felt a familiar squeezing in what I thought must be my heart. I had heard of being "heartbroken" or "heavy-hearted" but I had never known it was an actual sensation one felt when you feel like the whole world have abandoned you.
The fact is, my adoptive parents loved me, and I wanted to be worthy of their love, making them proud. But I wanted to meet my real father, mother extended brothers and sisters if there were any. It's really hard to imagine when you don't know.
Yet everybody around me knew what I was called, but did anyone, anywhere knew my story. Disremembered and unaccounted for, feeling lost and abandoned, but how could I be lost when no one was looking for me, and even if they were, how can they call me if they don’t even know my name?
How shall I ever learn who I am when there is so much of me that belongs to someone else?And how do you cope when your whole life story turns out to be wrong?
I stared at myself in the mirror but my reflections failed to solve or answer any of my many questions.
Then I came to the realisation that I was letting myself become too territorial about my identity, when in fact, it's already been hijacked by so many people with their own projections.
And so I had a good look around and it suddenly became clear that all the people around me were reflections of my own identity.
So I told myself that if I could accept the indescribable nature of my true identity, then maybe I would be able to unveil the mystery of life. That to me was far more important, I was wasting my time struggling with my cultural identity. The facts remain that we've been assigned an identity since birth. Then we spend the rest of our lives walking around in it to see if it really fits. We try on all these different selves and abandon just as many. But really it’s about dismantling all that false armor, getting down to what’s real.
Not how we come to be, and how we are what we are, that's beyond any understanding. I had to lose the obsession of my origins.
Because my identity was already constructed around my past and on my experiences as I go through life. Although having information about ourselves and the world we live in is part of our national identity, so there will always be some curiosity.
But although my identity might begin with the fact of my race, it didn't and wouldn't end there.
I continued reading the letter, and in reading it had somehow helped to lift the Curtains of the impossible which had blinded my mind, I then looked out into the unknown, if only because the very feeling of not knowing is a painful one!!

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© Nicole 🍒 JoMoRo